This is game 28 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 3 week of July.

July 15

1973 Angels’ hurler Nolan Ryan pitches his second no-hitter of the season defeating the Tigers, 6-0 in front of 41,411 fans in Detroit. Umpire Ron Luciano doesn’t permit Norm Cash to use a piano leg instead of a bat in the ninth inning.

Norman Dalton Cash was born November 10, 1934, in Justiceburg, Texas.

Following graduation from high school, Cash was drafted in the 13th round as a halfback by the NFL’s Chicago Bears. Instead, he chose baseball, signing with the Chicago White Sox as an outfielder on May 21, 1955.

After two seasons in the minor leagues—and all of 1957 in military service—the left-handed hitting Cash was promoted to the White Sox midway through the 1958 season.  Cash was soon converted to a first baseman and, after some seasoning at Indianapolis, was recalled by the White Sox in 1959.

Playing backup to Earl Torgeson, Cash batted .240 in 31 games.  The White Sox, led by speedy infielders Luis Aparicio and Nellie Fox, raced to the summit of the American League standings, hitting 46 triples and stealing 113 bases in posting 94 victories.  The “Go-Go Sox” outdistanced second-place Cleveland by five games to capture their first pennant in 40 years.  However, the Sox were badly overmatched in the World Series by the Los Angeles Dodgers, losing the fall classic in six games.

In and effort to upgrade the White Sox offense in the off-season, team president Bill Veeck added veterans Roy Sievers, Gene Freese, and Minnie Minoso to a lineup that already included Ted Kluszewski.  However, he was forced to mortgage his future prospects, including Norm Cash.  Cash was sent to Cleveland in the seven-player Minoso deal in December 1959.

Although Cash wore a Cleveland cap on his 1960 Topps baseball card, he never played an inning for the Indians.  On April 12, as the indians headed north from Tucson at the conclusion of spring training, Cash found himself traded yet again.  This time, he was dispatched to Detroit in exchange for third baseman Steve Demeter.  Detroit General Manager Rick Ferrell was dumbfounded when Frank Lane, his Cleveland counterpart, offered Cash for Demeter, unsure if he meant “cold cash or Norm Cash.”  While Demeter’s career with the Indians consisted of merely four games, Cash became a fixture at first base in Detroit for 15 years.

Cash’s teammates took an immediate liking to him.  A comedian both on the field and in the clubhouse, he once tried to call time after being picked off first base.  In another instance, Cash was stranded on second base during a thunderstorm.  Once play resumed, however, he returned to third base.  The umpire was baffled.

“What are you doing over there?”

“I stole third,” he answered.

“When did that happen?”

“During the rain.”

On several occasions, he gave a muddy infield ball to the pitcher instead of the game ball so the hitters could not see it as well.  Al Kaline remembers: “Whenever you mention Norm Cash, I just smile.  He was just a fun guy to be around and a great teammate.  He always came ready to play.  People don’t know this, but he often played injured, like the time he had a broken finger.”

It was another Southerner and recent transplant to Detroit who presented Cash with his nickname:

“I was in Baltimore [for six years] and there was a fellow there named Norman Almony,” remembers Ernie Harwell. “Everybody called him Stormin’ Norman.  When Norman Cash lost his temper once in a while, I gave him the nickname Stormin’ Norman.  I don’t think he liked it at first, but after a while, he started treasuring it.”

After a respectable 1960 season in which he batted .286 with 18 home runs, Cash captivated the baseball world in 1961.  Although playing in the shadow of Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris, Cash posted some of the most outstanding offensive single-season statistics in American League history.

He led the American League with 193 hits and a .361 batting average.  Cash also established personal marks of 41 home runs, 132 Runs Batted In, and eight triples.  Even more astounding, he hit .388 on the road.

Facing Washington’s Joe McClain on June 11, Cash became the first Detroit player to clear the Tiger Stadium roof, hitting a home run that landed on Trumbull Avenue.  Another roof-clearing blast that season against Boston’s Don Schwall struck a police tow truck.

Cash was equally skilled at first base, fielding a sterling .992 as he caught dozens of foul balls before they could fly into the stands.  With Kaline’s .324 batting average and Colavito’s .290 complementing Cash in the lineup, the Tigers, led on the mound by Frank Lary and his 23 wins, challenged the Yankees for the American League pennant.  The Tigers were within a game and a half of the Yankees on September 1 before finishing eight games behind with 101 victories.

Was Norm Cash destined to become a one-year wonder?  Even at the time, he knew his 1961 season was a freak.  He said, “Everything I hit seemed to drop in, even when I didn’t make good contact.  I never thought I’d do it again.”

After Lary injured his leg in the 1962 season opener, and Kaline broke his shoulder during a nationally televised game in May, it became clear that the Tigers would not challenge the Yankees again.  The season was equally disappointing for Cash, who batted only .243.  The 118 points shaved from his 1961 average remains the record for decline among batting champs.  Still, the 1962 season was far from a write-off for Cash.  He hit 39 home runs, including three more roof shots, as the league runner-up to Harmon Killebrew’s 48.  His .992 fielding percentage was identical to his 1961 average.

Cash never again cracked the .300 plateau.  Years later, when Mickey Lolich asked why, Cash replied that “Jim Campbell pays me to hit home runs.”  Indeed, Cash’s career total of 373 home runs for the Tigers remains second only to Kaline’s 399.  However, it soon became evident that other factors compromised Cash’s batting average.

He struck out frequently, and fans expecting another batting title consistently booed Cash for the balance of his career.  Cash knew that inherently, the jabs were good-natured.  After all, when Mayo Smith removed Cash from the lineup during a slump, the manager was also booed.  Although he was not bothered by the sounds of tens of thousands of boos, “when one or two guys get on your back, they drive you nuts.”  For their appreciation of his congeniality and humor, Cash was crowned King Tiger in 1969 by the presidents of individual Tigers fan clubs for his congeniality.

Cash found himself fighting a much larger battle against alcoholism.  Denny McLain described his roommate as “a modern medical miracle,” who abused his body so mercilessly that he “should [have turned] it over to the Mayo Clinic.”

Cash violated every curfew rule in the book, but he somehow arrived at the ballpark every day, “not only eager to play, but madder than hell if he didn’t.”  Granted, Cash rarely showed up on time; he “could not make 9 a.m. workouts because he threw up until 10 a.m.,” according to his roommate.  McLain credited hustle and determination as the secrets to Cash’s big-league longevity, although the bespectacled right-hander did admit he was often bewildered “how he managed to remain upright” when he took the field. Still, McLain admitted that “I always felt better about everything when I looked over and saw Stormin’ Norman at first base.” As pitcher Jerry Casale once recounted, “On a team with so many friends, there was no one nicer than Norm Cash.”

Cash was nothing if not consistent for the balance of the 1960s.  He was the only American League hitter to slug 20 or more home runs each year from 1961 to 1969.  In 1964, he set a record among Detroit first basemen by fielding an outstanding .997.

On July 9, 1965, Cash hit an inside-the-park home run against the A’s at Municipal Stadium in Kansas City.  The blast must have ignited Cash’s bat, as he decimated American League pitching with 23 home runs and 58 Runs Batted In in 78 games after the All-Star break.  His second-half exploits earned him Comeback Player of the Year honors, and in 1966, he was invited to the All-Star Game.

Cash proved to be the exception on the 1968 Tigers as he was fighting an early-season slump.  On July 27, the 6-foot Cash was barely hitting his weight, batting .195 on a team cruising to its first American League pennant in 23 years.  In dramatic fashion, he hit a torrid .332 in his last 54 games to finish the season at .262.  Included in his 11 home runs and 32 Runs Batted In in August and September was a three-run blast against Oakland on September 14.  The winning pitcher of the 5–4 decision was Denny McLain—his 30th win of the season.

Cash led Detroit’s batsmen in the World Series, hitting .385 against St. Louis pitching.  After being Bob Gibson’s record-setting 16th strikeout victim in Game 1, Cash redeemed himself the following afternoon, homering off Nelson Briles in an 8–1 complete-game win for Mickey Lolich.

With the Tigers facing elimination in Game 6, Cash enjoyed another productive day at the plate, scoring two of the 13 Detroit runs, tying the Series at three games.  This set the stage for a historic Game 7.  The Tigers were unfazed at the prospect of facing a pitcher, Bob Gibson, who specialized in winning Game 7.  In the clubhouse after practice, manager Mayo Smith encouraged his players, saying that Gibson “can be beat, he’s not Superman!”  To this, Cash rejoindered, “Oh yeah? Just a little while ago, I saw him changing in a phone booth!”  Tigers hitters proved to be Kryptonite.  With two outs and no score in the seventh inning, Cash ignited a Detroit rally with a single off Gibson and later put the Tigers ahead, scoring on Jim Northrup’s triple.  The final score was 4–1, and the Detroit Tigers were world champions.

After playing in the field for only 114 of his team’s 162 games in 1970, Cash enjoyed a renaissance season in 1971.  So torrid was his first half that spectators across major-league ballparks voted him to start the All-Star Game on July 13.  Played in Detroit, it drew 53,559 spectators.

When the dust cleared on the 1971 season, the Tigers had won 91 games but finished 12 games behind Earl Weaver and the Orioles.  Cash clubbed 32 home runs—one shy of Bill Melton’s league lead—while driving in 91 runs and batting a respectable .283.  His offensive record was enough to win his second American League Comeback Player of the Year Award.  It would have surprised nobody to hear Cash proclaim, after accepting the honor, “I hope I win this again next year.”

Cash was, however, named to the All-Star team once again in 1972.  His offensive output may have slackened in 1972, but the Tigers vaulted ahead in the standings to win their first American League East Division title.

A player known for his pranks, Cash saved his most famous stunt for the twilight of his career.  It occurred on July 15, 1973, as the Tigers entertained the visiting California Angels.  Not one Detroit batsman had hit safely off starting pitcher Nolan Ryan.  With two away in the bottom of the ninth, the Ryan Express had fanned 17 as his Angels led 6–0.  Potentially the final hitter of the game, Cash strode to the plate substituting a table leg for a bat.  Home plate umpire Ron Luciano forbade Cash’s creative use of equipment.  Cash protested, “But Ron, I’ve got as much chance with this as I do with a bat.”  As Jim Northrup remembers from the third-base dugout, Cash reluctantly retrieved a bat—and grounded out against his fellow Texan.  The no-hitter was Ryan’s second in as many months; as Cash returned to the dugout, he turned to Luciano and said, “See, I told ya.”

The 1974 season was a transitional one for the Tigers.  For only the second time in franchise history, Detroit finished the season in last place.  Cash received a fateful telephone call from General Manager Jim Campbell on August 7.  Batting only .228 with seven home runs and 12 Runs Batted In, Cash was let go. “I thought at least they’d let me finish out the year. Campbell just called and said I didn’t have to show up at the park.”

Cash was a career .271 hitter with 377 home runs and 1103 Runs Batted In.

Cash summed up his success as follows: “I owe my success to expansion pitching, a short right-field fence, and my hollow bats.”  Cash later claimed he used a corked bat in 1961, even showing Sports Illustrated how he made one.

In 1976, he teamed with former October archrival Bob Gibson as broadcasters for ABC’s Monday Night Baseball.  Although Cash continued to display his brand of humor, it was not appreciated by all.  On-air remarks such as equating entertainment in Baltimore with going “down to the street and [watching] hubcaps rust” earned Cash his dismissal from the network.

His health began to deteriorate; he suffered a massive stroke in 1979.  As Ernie Harwell remembers, he was “out of commission for quite a while.”  Fortunately, by 1981 he was healthy enough to broadcast Tigers games for ON-TV, a subscription television service

He and Hank Aguirre provided color commentary alongside Larry Adderly’s play-by-play.  By 1983, partial paralysis of his face made him slur his words, and he could no longer continue.

Sunday evening of the Columbus Day weekend in Cash met friends for dinner at a bar on Beaver Island.  Those present could affirm that Cash had been drinking. After dinner, he returned to the dock to check on his boat.  Unable to navigate the slippery pier in his cowboy boots, he fell into the water and could not pull himself out.  The next morning, he was found floating in 15 feet of water in St. James Bay.

Norm Cash was pronounced dead on October 12, 1986.  He was 51 years old.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Maxwell Kates.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 27 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 1 week of July.

July 5

1935 Brothers Tony and Al Cuccinello each hit a home run in the same game making it the first time in major league history that brothers on opposing teams have hit round trippers. Tony’s Dodgers beat Al’s Giants, 14-4.

Anthony Francis Cuccinello, nicknamed “Tony” or “Cootch” was born November 8, 1907, in Long Island City, New York.

While playing in the minor leagues, Cuccinello caught the attention of Branch Rickey who  purchased his contract for the Reds after the 1929 season. Tony made his debut on Opening Day, April 15, 1930, playing third base in a losing effort against the Pittsburgh Pirates.

Cuccinello had a solid rookie season, batting .312 with 10 home runs and 78 Runs Batted In.  In 1931 the Reds shifted Tony to second base and he responded with a .315 average and 93 Runs Batted In, a club record for second basemen until broken by Joe Morgan in 1975.  In his best offensive performance that year he got hits in six consecutive at-bats, including two doubles and a triple.  He led the league’s second basemen in putouts, assists, errors, and double plays.

Despite Cuccinello’s performances on the field, he refused to sign the contract the Reds tendered to him and found himself shipped to the Brooklyn Dodgers to begin the 1932 season.  Tony played in all 154 games that year, turning in respectable offensive numbers for a second baseman (.281, 12 homers, 32 doubles, and 77 RBIs) but, more importantly, becoming a teammate of future Hall of Fame manager Al Lopez, with whom he would begin a lifelong friendship.

Cuccinello’s performance in 1932 earned him a spot on the roster of first All-Star Game in 1933 (the so-called “Game of the Century”), where he had the dubious distinction of pinch-hitting for Carl Hubbell in the top of the ninth and striking out to end the game.

In 1935, Cuccinello’s younger brother, Al, made his major league debut and played in 54 games with the New York Giants, the only major league experience Al would have.  The brothers played against each other several times that year and both homered in the same game on July 5.  Tony’s homer was a solo shot in the top of the eighth and Al’s a two-run blast in the bottom of the ninth inning of a game Brooklyn won 14–4.

After four years with the Dodgers, Cuccinello was on the move again when Brooklyn traded him to the Boston Braves.  In Boston in 1936, Cuccinello had one of his best offensive seasons, batting .308 and driving in 86 runs.  Cuccinello‘s excellent defensive performances continued in Boston, as well.

In 1939 Cuccinello suffered a knee injury after Dick Bartell of the Chicago Cubs slid into him at second base, and surgery sidelined him for two months.  His first game back after the surgery Cuccinello had 10 assists in a 22-inning game while playing third base.  The knee never really improved despite the surgery, and Cuccinello was traded to the Giants midway through the 1940 season.  At the end of that season Cuccinello retired for the first time, so that he could manage the Jersey City Giants in the International League.

Jersey City finished fifth in the eight-team league in 1941, and Cuccinello was prepared to manage again in 1942, but instead was called by his former Brooklyn manager Casey Stengel, then with the Braves, who asked Cuccinello to join his staff as a player-coach.

In 1942 Cuccinello threw batting practice, coached third base, and pinch-hit for Stengel, and in mid-season 1943 was released so that he could sign with the Chicago White Sox, a team desperately in need of players to replace those who enlisted in the military.  Cuccinello, who suffered from chronic laryngitis, was not drafted into military service, and therefore was able to continue his career.

From mid-1943 through the 1944 season Cuccinello was a reserve infielder who appeared in fewer than 50 games each year, and he later said that but for the war he likely would have retired before the 1945 season.

But in 1945 Cuccinello went to a spring training in, Indiana where he had a mineral bath every day, followed by a rubdown and a nap, and entered the season feeling the best he had ever felt.  Perhaps it was the mineral baths or the naps, but nevertheless after the Indiana spring training Cuccinello embarked on a near-title-winning year, and retired from playing for good at the end of that campaign.

Cuccinello was involved in what remains the closest batting race in major league history, when, as a member of the Chicago White Sox, he lost the 1945 American League batting title to George “Snuffy” Stirnweiss of the Yankees by a margin of .000087.

Cuccinello had a fast start in 1945, keeping his average in the .380–.390 range for the first few months.  The heat of the Chicago summer eventually wore him down, however, and at what was then the advanced age (for a ballplayer) of 37, Cuccinello did not play every day, and in fact had to play more in September to achieve sufficient at-bats to qualify for the batting title.  Stirnweiss edged out Cuccinello on the final day of the season, when a White Sox doubleheader was rained out and Stirnweiss went 3-for-4 against the Boston Red Sox.  One of those hits, however, was scored an error initially, and then changed to a hit by the official scorer, who just happened to be a writer for the Bronx Home News.  According to Cuccinello, he was told at the time that the official scorer only changed the call after he was informed that the White Sox had been rained out and Cuccinello’s season was over.  Ironically, Cuccinello later coached Stirnweiss with the Cleveland Indians, and Snuffy confirmed the shenanigans when he told Cuccinello: “He (the writer) gave it to me.”

Cuccinello was out of baseball in 1946, but managed in the minor leagues in 1947.  The following year he reunited with Al Lopez in Indianapolis, where they coached the Indianapolis Indians of the American Association.

In 1949 Cuccinello began a three-year stint as a coach with his first major league team, the Reds, and in 1952 he joined Al Lopez’s coaching staff on the Cleveland Indians, the first of several such positions he would hold.

Cuccinello’s first postseason experience came as a coach with the Indians in the 1954 World Series, which the heavily favored Indians lost to the San Francisco Giants.  In 1957, Cuccinello followed Lopez to the Chicago White Sox, and in 1959, as third base coach, was involved in a controversial play that some said at the time led to the White Sox’ demise at the hands of the Los Angeles Dodgers in the 1959 World Series.  In Game 2 of the Series, Sherm Lollar, the White Sox catcher, was on first base in the bottom of the eighth with nobody out, a man on second, and the score 4–2 in favor of the Dodgers.  The next batter, Al Smith, doubled to left-center.  The runner at second (Earl Torgeson, running for Ted Kluszewski) scored easily.  Cuccinello waved Lollar home, where he was thrown out—by a good margin, by all accounts.  When the Sox went on to lose the Series four games to two, Cuccinello immediately was awarded goat horns and tagged with the blame for the Series loss.

Lopez defended his friend and fellow coach, telling a Chicago Daily News reporter first, that in his opinion the play itself was fine, and more importantly, that the play was not the turning point of the Series, that the Sox’ inability to run in the Coliseum was what led to their demise.

Lopez repeated that opinion in an interview with The Sporting News, noting that it took a perfect play by the Dodgers’ defense to nail Lollar at the plate.  One of the Dodgers involved in the play, outfielder Wally Moon, expressed the same opinion during the off-season after the World Series when he said that he also might have sent Lollar if he were in Cuccinello’s shoes, because the odds were against the Dodgers making the play.

In any event, Cuccinello survived the controversy and continued coaching in Chicago into Eddie Stanky’s managerial tenure, which started in 1966.  In 1967 Cuccinello joined the staff of new Tigers manager Mayo Smith.

Cuccinello enjoyed his first and only World Series championship in 1968 when the Tigers defeated the St. Louis Cardinals in seven games.

Cuccinello left the Tigers in 1969 to reunite with Al Lopez, who managed the White Sox for 17 games that season.  Cuccinello then retired to Tampa, Florida, where he worked as a Yankees scout in the area until retiring from baseball completely in 1985.

Tony Cuccinello died on September 21, 1995, in Tampa, FL at the age of 87.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Barb Mantegani.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 26 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 4 week of June.

June 27

1911 The Red Sox lose their protest about A’s Stuffy McInnis hitting a ‘warm-up’ pitch homer, but the event causes a rule change.  Warm-up pitches no longer end when a player steps into the box.

John Phalen McInnis, nicknamed “Stuffy”, was born September 19, 1890 in Gloucester, Massachusetts

McInnis was a spry right-handed line-drive pull hitter with a boyish face.  He is best known as one of baseball’s best defensive first basemen, due to his amazing consistency covering first base.

McInnis gained his nickname as a youngster in the Boston suburban leagues, where his spectacular playing brought shouts of “that’s the stuff, kid”.

McInnis’ slight stature and boyish looks were the cause of some confusion in his earlier years.  Once, before a New England League game, umpire Steve Mahoney asked Hamilton when he was going to get his mascot off the field, pointing at McInnis.  “Mascot nothing!” snapped Hamilton, “That’s my shortstop and he’s one of the best you’ve ever seen.”

During his 18-year career in the Major Leagues, McInnis’ teams finished in first place six times, winning five World Series, and in last place four times.  He started his career by becoming the youngest member of Connie Mack’s famed “$100,000 infield,” replacing veteran Harry Davis at first base for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1911, and joining Eddie Collins, Frank Baker, and Jack Barry in that fabled infield.

Following the dismantling of the Athletics after the 1914 season, Stuffy stayed on, suffering through three straight last-place A’s finishes.  But whether it was feast or famine for his teams, McInnis remained a consistent singles hitter, an outstanding defensive first baseman, and a savvy clubhouse leader.

McInnis was signed by the Philadelphia Athletics’ owner-manager Connie Mack at the end of 1908.

In 1909, just 18 years old, McInnis was considered a potential rival for the starting shortstop position over Jack Barry, who had joined the major leagues just a year earlier.  He stuck with the Athletics out of spring training, but ended up playing only 14 games – all at shortstop – in this first season.  His major league debut on April 12 was an auspicious occasion for another reason, the grand opening of Shibe Park, the first steel and girder ballpark in the country.  Jack Barry was injured, so McInnis started in front of over 30,000 fans, a huge crowd for that era.  McInnis acquitted himself well, making an error but getting a hit as the Athletics defeated the Red Sox, 8-1, behind Eddie Plank.  McInnis finished the season with only a .239 batting average, but made himself useful off the bench, as he became particularly astute at stealing signs from opponents.

In 1910, McInnis played at shortstop, second base, third base, and even in the outfield, batting .301 in 38 games.  It was during this season that Connie Mack told McInnis to start working out at first base, despite his short stature and lack of experience at the position.  Ben Houser, who was trying to become the A’s regular first baseman, tried to run McInnis off first every time he tried to take groundballs or throws.  But in 1911 Mack kept McInnis and released Houser who had hit only .188.

Before the 1911 season, Mack determined that McInnis would supplant regular first baseman Harry Davis, whose production had declined considerably in the previous year.  However, when, early in the season, Jack Barry became sick, McInnis took over at shortstop instead.  He played 24 games at shortstop, keeping Barry on the bench even some time after he recovered, due to his hot hitting.  Eventually, Barry reclaimed shortstop, and McInnis took over first base from Davis.

Typical of Deadball Era players, McInnis did not hit many home runs – only 21 for his career – and many were inside-the-park jobs.  His most memorable home run, however, came on June 27, 1911 in a game at Huntington Avenue Grounds in Boston.  McInnis stepped to the plate to lead off the seventh inning while the Red Sox were still warming up between innings.  With Eddie Collins of the A’s still on the field talking to Red Sox center-fielder Tris Speaker, Stuffy hit a warm-up pitch by Ed Karger into short center field, which the Boston outfielders were not in a position to field.  McInnis circled the bases for an inside-the-park home run against the unprepared Red Sox.  The umpire upheld the homer and on appeal, American League president Ban Johnson refused to overturn the umpire’s ruling or the Athletics victory, based on a new, soon-to-be-withdrawn, rule prohibiting warm-up pitches between innings.  Johnson had implemented the rule due to concern that some games were taking over two hours to play!

On September 23, 1911, Mack included McInnis’ name on the list of the 21 players eligible to represent the A’s in the World Series.  However, two days later, McInnis sustained an injury to his right wrist when he was struck by a pitch.  Though no bones were broken, McInnis’ right forearm became badly swollen, and he was unable to throw even from first base to the pitcher’s mound with any speed or accuracy.  McInnis did not play the rest of the season.  In 126 games that season, he hit for a .321 batting average.

The Athletics won the 1911 American League pennant, limping into the World Series with the aged Davis replacing McInnis at first base.  It was the second year in a row that McInnis’ team played in the World Series without McInnis taking a meaningful part in the outcome.  However, with the Athletics up 13-2 with two outs in the ninth inning, and a 3-2 series lead, Mack put McInnis into the game defensively at first base, so that McInnis could say he’d played in a World Series.  A’s pitcher Chief Bender promptly induced Giants catcher Artie Wilson to ground weakly to Frank Baker at third base.  The Series ended as McInnis touched the ball for the first time, nabbing Baker’s throw for the final putout.  For McInnis’, it was the first of five World Series with three different teams.

McInnis entered the 1912 season surrounded by great expectations and with huge shoes to fill.  Harry Davis, despite his declining performance over the previous two seasons, had been one of the American League’s premier power hitters, and the A’s regular first baseman since Mack formed the team in 1901.  McInnis responded to the expectations with an excellent season, batting in 101 runs, while batting for a .327 average.  However, for the first time in three years, the Athletics failed to win the American League pennant.

In 1913, the A’s got back on track, winning the American League pennant for the third time since McInnis joined the team.  During the season, McInnis batted for a .324 average, with 90 runs batted in, which tied for second in the league.  His defense also improved dramatically, providing a glimpse of his future defensive greatness.  In the World Series, the Athletics beat the New York Giants in five games for the World Championship.  McInnis slumped badly at the plate in the Series, garnering only two hits in 17 at-bats for a paltry .118 batting average.

McInnis had another strong offensive year in 1914, finishing with a .314 batting average, including 95 runs batted in.  The Athletics again won the American League pennant.  They entered the 1914 World Series as heavy favorites over the Boston Braves.  The Athletics managed only a lackluster offensive performance, scoring six runs in the improbable four-game sweep by the “Miracle Braves.”  Stuffy again struggled at the plate in the Series, going 2-for-14.  The entire A’s team hit only a lackluster .172 for the four games.

Philadelphia entered the 1915 season after losing starting pitchers Chief Bender and Eddie Plank to the Federal League, third baseman Baker to a rebellious one-year retirement, and second baseman Eddie Collins, in a sale by Mack, to the Chicago White Sox.  The result was that they had no hope of winning even half their games, let alone competing for the pennant.  To make matters worse, in July, Mack sold Barry’s contract to the Boston Red Sox, thus leaving McInnis as the sole remaining member of the Athletics’ once-feared infield.

McInnis’ next three years with the Athletics were unhappy ones as the A’s finished in the cellar in 1915, 1916, and 1917. McInnis, however, continued to be productive, batting .314, .295, and .303 in those years to remain one of baseball’s premier first basemen.

McInnis’ had an interesting encounter with future teammate Babe Ruth early in the 1916 season.  McInnis was walking across the lobby of the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel in Philadelphia on an April evening when he saw Babe Ruth relaxing in an easy chair.  That afternoon Ruth had defeated the Athletics in Shibe Park and allowed only five hits, including one by McInnis.  McInnis walked over to the Babe and said, “You pitched a fine game out there today, Babe.  That fastball of yours was really hopping all afternoon.”

McInnis later reported that although he had batted against Ruth many times in the past, the Babe looked him squarely in the eye and said, “Yeah, kid, it was a pretty good game.  Glad you could get out to the ballpark and see it.”

After the end of the 1917 season, Mack demanded that McInnis take a salary cut.  When McInnis refused, Mack traded him to the Boston Red Sox in January 1918.

After nine years with the Athletics, McInnis helped lead his new team to the war-shortened 1918 American League pennant.  The Red Sox won the World Series four games to two primarily on the pitching of Babe Ruth and Carl Mays, but also with the timely hitting of McInnis and a few teammates.  In the first game, McInnis singled home the only run of the game in the fourth inning as Babe Ruth shut out the Cubs, 1-0.  In Game Three, McInnis singled in the fourth and scored the deciding run on a squeeze bunt by Everett Scott in a 2-1 Red Sox victory.   For the Series McInnis batted .250, well above the team’s lowly .186 average.

Boston’s fortunes fell in 1919, 1920, and 1921, as first Mays and then Ruth were traded.  The team finished in the bottom half of the American League each season, as McInnis again found himself on a team that had been dismantled for cash by its owner.  McInnis hit for averages of .305, .297, and .307 in the three years, respectively.

It was during this period that McInnis honed his first base defense to a point of near-infallibility.  In 1919, he made seven errors in 118 games for a .995 fielding average.  In 1920, he again made seven errors, this time in 148 games, for a league-leading .996 fielding average.  In 1921, McInnis made only one error in 152 games for a record .9993 fielding average.

Even that single error was debatable.  It occurred on May 31st in Fenway Park against the Athletics. Jimmy Dykes was leading off first and the Red Sox catcher fired to McInnis on an attempted pick-off play.  McInnis dropped the ball on the tag and the official scorer charged him with an error.  The next season, Dykes, knowing that was the only error McInnis committed all year, would bring the play up whenever he got to first base against the Red Sox.  He would say, “You know, Stuffy, that really wasn’t an error.  I was safe either way, whether you dropped it or not.”

According to Dykes, McInnis would purse his lips and make believe he wasn’t listening.  Finally, during one game when Dykes brought up the play once again, McInnis said out of the corner of his mouth without looking at Dykes, “Shut up Dykes. You just shut up about it.  If you mention that error one more time, so help me Dykes, so help me . . . “

Before the 1922 season, McInnis was traded to the Cleveland Indians.  He hit for a .305 batting average, making only five errors in 140 games.  Cleveland finished fourth in the American League.  After the season, McInnis was released on waivers.  He signed with the Boston Braves, with whom he spent two seasons, batting .315 and .291 in 1923 and 1924, respectively.  The Braves finished at or near the bottom of the National League in both seasons, and released McInnis in April 1925.

McInnis ultimately signed with the Pittsburgh Pirates for 1925.  Playing in only 59 games, he hit for a .368 average, with a .437 on-base percentage.  McInnis’ veteran leadership was instrumental in helping the young Pirates win the National League pennant.  In the World Series against the Washington Senators, the Pirates lost three of the first four games.  John McGraw, whose Giants had lost to the Senators the previous year, suggested to Pirates manager Bill McKechnie that he play McInnis at first base instead of the struggling George Grantham, to take advantage of McInnis’ World Series experience.  McKechnie took McGraw’s advice and the Pirates won three straight to come back for an improbable World Series win.   McInnis’ steadying hand and timely hitting were major contributors to the Pirates comeback.

McInnis played part-time for the Pirates again in 1926.  He hit for a .299 average, but recorded only 127 at-bats in 47 games.  The Pirates finished third in the National League.

For his 18-year big league career, McInnis batted .308 and hit over .300 14 times.  He was known as a consummate contact hitter, striking out only 189 times in about 8,200 career at-bats.  For three years of his career, he struck out fewer than 10 times in over 500 plate appearances.  In 1922, McInnis struck out only five times in 550 at-bats.  In 1924, he whiffed only six times in almost 600 at-bats.

While McInnis was an excellent hitter, it was as a fielder that he truly left a legacy.  He was one of the earliest first basemen to excel at catching throws one-handed and he did so in a way that appeared natural and not flashy.  His one-handed style enabled him to reach for high and wide throws, and helped him overcome the disadvantage of his rather short stature.  He is also credited as the inventor of the “knee reach,” during which maneuver he performed a full, ground-level split in stretching for a throw.  According to one report, he was also the first to wear the claw-type first baseman’s glove to improve his efficiency in scooping balls out of the dirt.

In 1927, McInnis returned to Philadelphia as manager of the Phillies.  Despite some early-season heroics by the perpetually woeful “Flying Phils,” the team lost 103 games and ended up in its usual spot at the bottom of the National League.

In 1928, McInnis served as player-manager in the minor leagues.  The 38-year old batted .339 in part-time duty.  He went on to coach baseball at Norwich University, Cornell and Harvard.  After six seasons of coaching Harvard, McInnis resigned in 1954 because of failing health.

Stuffy McInnis died on February 16, 1960 in Ipswich, Massachusetts at the age of 69.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Aaron Davis and C. Paul Rogers III.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 25 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 4 week of June.

June 25

1950 Hank Sauer’s two home runs and two doubles helps the Cubs defeat the Phillies, 11-8.

Henry John Sauer was born on March 17, 1917 in Bellevue, PA.

Along with his lanky appearance and a soft-spoken manner, Sauer possessed excellent vision, good quickness, powerful wrists, and the muscular arms of a blacksmith, but he never had much speed.  He didn’t reach the majors to stay until he was 31 years old.

Sauer was signed by the New York Yankees in 1937.  Fearing he might be considered too old at 20 years of age, he listed his age as eighteen.  He didn’t admit his actual birth year until after he retired from the major leagues.

In 1941 the Cincinnati Reds drafted Sauer and the ball club brought him up for a trial in September.  The Reds had veteran Frank McCormick, a .299 career hitter, playing first base and manager Bill McKechnie sent the agile Sauer to the outfield.  He looked good, playing nine games and hitting .303, adding four doubles and five Runs Batted In.

Baseball, like everything else in America, was changing, because the United States was drawn into World War II.  At the time, Sauer appeared to be an up-and-coming talent, but in the Reds’ spring camp of 1942, he lost a fly ball in the sun.  In those days, a mistake could prove critical to a young ballplayer’s career.  Sauer recalled in a 1995 interview, “I missed one fly ball in spring training that year and I was done.  McKechnie sent me back to Syracuse, claiming I needed more experience.”

Discouraged for a time, Sauer persevered, playing two solid seasons for Syracuse of the Triple-A International League.  During the war, Sauer, like the majority of professional athletes, left his baseball career on the sidelines and served his country.  He spent 1943 and 1944 with the Coast Guard.  Mustered out in mid-1945, he returned to Cincinnati to finish the last wartime season.

Sauer swung a potent bat, but again it seemed to do him little good.  For 31 games in 1945, he averaged .293, including five home runs and 20 Runs Batted In.  However, during a slide into third base, he tore tendons in his ankle.  His season was over, he was optioned to Syracuse for 1946, and he never recovered his running speed.

At Syracuse the hard-hitting Sauer produced a good year, hitting .282 with 21 home runs.  The manager, however, believed Sauer’s power production could be improved, and his belief led to an experiment with Sauer’s bat.

Sauer later recollected, “Finally, I got that heavy 40-ounce bat.  Jewel Ens, the manager at Syracuse, got me to use that big bat.  Jewel said, ‘Just give it ten days.’  I gave that 40-ounce bat ten days, and that’s when I had that tremendous minor league year.  I’ve used it ever since.  That heavier bat got me in the big leagues to stay.  I was hitting a lot of home runs, but most of them were fouls.  That’s why Jewel wanted me to use the big bat.  He said, ‘Hank, you’re a good contact hitter, but you’re so fast with that bat that you’re going to have to get something to slow you down.’  From that day on, I still got around fast enough to pull the ball.  I was already a pronounced pull hitter.  That’s [the bat] what made me, and I give Jewel Ens all the credit in the world for it.”

Sauer’s impressive 1947 figures included a .336 average and 50 home runs.  The Sporting News named him Minor League Player of the Year.

Sauer made the big leagues to stay in 1948, playing as the regular left fielder for Cincinnati.  The 31-year-old rookie batted .260.  Using his hard, looping swing to launch towering shots, he crashed 35 home runs, fourth best in the league, and he produced 97 Runs Batted In, easily leading the ball club in both categories.

In 1949, however, Sauer struggled.  On June 15, 1949, the major league trading deadline, he was hitting just .237 with four homers and 16 Runs Batted In.

Sauer later said, “Cincinnati kept hollering about wanting somebody with power.  They got me in 1948, and I hit the 35 home runs.  The manager [Johnny Neun] says, ‘Hank, we’re going to have to get you to hit a few balls to right field.’

“I said, ‘You know something. I was in the Yankee organization when I first broke in.  They told me they wanted me to be a pull hitter.  So the manager kept pitching to me, and I became a pronounced pull hitter.  So I began hitting home runs.  I said, ‘You asked for a home run hitter, and you got one.  And now you want to make a Punch-and-Judy hitter out of me.’”

Sauer got off to a slow start and was traded to Chicago, where he was a better fit: “When they traded me to the Cubs, manager Frankie Frisch said, ‘Hank, I didn’t buy you to hit balls to right field.  I want you to hit home runs and drive in runs for me.’  Well, that’s when I went crazy.  I hit 31 home runs that year, and 27 of those came with Chicago.”

Sauer finished 1949 with a combined .275 average, 31 homers, and 99 Runs Batted In.

In 1951 the Cubs slipped after trading Andy Pafko in an eight-player deal to Brooklyn on June 15.  Sauer was batting fourth with Pafko fifth, so that after the eight-player swap, Hank didn’t have a strong hitter batting behind him, and he believed other teams often pitched around him in big situations.

In 1952 Sauer surprised many baseball writers and thrilled Cub fans by coming through with a Most Valuable Player season, and his feats including hitting 37 homers, which tied him with Pittsburgh’s Ralph Kiner for the major league lead, and Sauer led the majors with 121 Runs Batted in.

However, Sauer ended the season in a slump that was caused by an injury.  In mid-August, he slid into Red Schoendienst of the Cardinals while trying to break up a double play at second base.  As the play ended, Sauer fell on the back of his head, wrenching his neck.  He returned to the lineup three days later.  Even so, Sauer suffered muscle spasms and severe pain, he had no lateral vision at bat, and he couldn’t sleep for two months.

Over the winter, Sauer’s neck healed, but in 1953 he endured an off-season due in part to injuries.  Sauer said “In spring training I broke one finger.  On Opening Day, I broke another one.  But I played with a splint.  I just took those fingers off the bat.  But when I broke my hand, I was out for six weeks there.  And I came back too soon.

“A week after they took the cast off, I was playing ball.  It really hurt. I told Phil Cavarretta, ‘Phil, I can’t even hold the bat right yet.’ Phil said, ‘Well, you hit better with one hand than most of these guys do with two.’

“So that’s the way I played.  I had a poor year that year.  I think I had 19 home runs, even hitting that way.  That wasn’t too bad.  You give me a couple hundred more at-bats, I would have still hit my 30 homers and knocked in 100 runs.”

In 1954 a healthy Sauer returned to form.  He enjoyed a better season in 1954 than his Most Valuable Player season in 1952.  In 520 official at-bats, he hit .288 and slammed a personal-best 41 home runs.

He recalled, “You know what?  They sent me a $1,500 cut in contract after the 1954 season.  I said, ‘I don’t think I deserve a cut in contract.’  Finally, they gave me back the same contract I had in 1954.  The front office said, ‘We could have ended up in seventh place without you.’  I said, ‘Yeah, but you wouldn’t have drawn a million people without me.’”

Fans at Wrigley Field loved Sauer.  At every game, as a sign of affection, rooters in the “Sauer section” behind left field would toss tobacco to him.  Former teammate Andy Pafko once observed, “Hank liked to chew and the fans showered him with pouches of tobacco!”

The Cubs did honor their fan favorite with a “Thank Hank Day” in 1954.  Laughing about his day, Hank remarked, “You talk about throwing tobacco out on the field.  That day they had to stop the game and send workers out to pick it all up!  They filled seven or eight bushel baskets with tobacco pouches.”

In 1955, partly because Chicago no longer used the aging hero as a regular, Sauer had another off-season.  In Stan Hack’s second year as manager, the Cubs climbed one notch to sixth.  But Sauer, playing in 79 games and batting 261 times, hit just .211 with 12 home runs and 28 Runs Batted In.  It was his most disappointing season.

Sauer’s worst season caused the front office to decide that he was too old, and on March 30, 1956, he was traded to the St. Louis Cardinals.  In St. Louis, Hank roomed with Stan Musial.

Sauer, playing as a reserve in 1956, batted 151 times, but he averaged .298 with five home runs and 24 Runs Batted In, despite being hit in the face with a bat during one of the team’s practice sessions.  Also, he and his roommate stayed out until after midnight two or three nights a week.

The Cardinals’ management, however, did not favor late-night carousing.  Sauer observed, “In September of ‘56, the manager [Fred Hutchinson] came up and said, ‘Hank, we’ve got to let you go.’ I said, ‘Let me go! I’m having a pretty damn good year.  Why are you letting me go?’

“He said, ‘Yeah, you’re having a good year, but your roommate is having a lousy year.  He’s only hitting .315.’  I said, ‘What the hell’s the matter with .315?’  He said, ‘Musial is not a .315 hitter.  He’s a .330 hitter.

St. Louis released Sauer on October 16, 1956.  Ten days later, he signed with the New York Giants and renewed his career in 1957.  Covering left field at the Polo Grounds, the 40-year-old outfielder won the Comeback Player of the Year Award for what became his last season as a regular.  Sauer played 127 games, averaged .259, hit 26 home runs, and contributed 76 Runs Batted In.

Moving with the club to San Francisco in 1958, Sauer became a backup, hitting .250 with 12 homers and 27 Runs Batted In.

In 1959, he joined the coaching staff in mid-season, a move made by the Giants’ management in order to keep Felipe Alou from being sent to the minors.

Sauer worked with the Giants’ hitters when they were at home and with minor league players while the club was traveling.  Beginning in 1970, he became an assistant to the minor league director.  In effect, Sauer ran the Giants’ farm system, until he “retired” in 1993.  Like so many other longtime players before him, Sauer became a lifetime baseball man, able to work every day with the game he loved

If he had one regret about his years in baseball, Sauer remarked in 1995, it was that he was never able to play on a team that made it to the World Series.

Still, Sauer loved baseball, loved talking about the game, and loved hearing from the fans.  He liked to point out, however, that today’s baseball business is different from the game they used to play.  Reminiscing about his first trip to the majors in 1941, Sauer said: “That was a proud moment, putting on the uniform.  Oh, boy, I walked a mile high!  I was a tall man then.  When you put on a major league uniform, you feel like a big man.  The tops.  Nothing higher.”

Hank Sauer died on August 24, 2001, in Burlingame, California at age of 84.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Jim Sargent.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 24 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 2 week of June.

June 13

1924 After Bob Meusel get hit with a pitch in his back in the top of the ninth, the Yankee outfielder hurls his bat at Tiger pitcher Bert Cole, and charges the mound. The resulting melee, including players, fans and police, lasts for nearly 30 minutes and when ump Billy Evans is unable to clear the field, he forfeits the game to New York, 10-6.

Robert William Meusel was born on July 19, 1896 in San Jose, California.

Meusel was a solid, all-around player, capable of hitting with power and for high average, and of stealing a base.  He had one of the best outfield arms ever.  He could whip the ball with lightning-fast speed and laser-beam accuracy, to any base or home plate.  Meusel’s throws were usually caught on the fly, rather than on a bounce or two.

He is the only American Leaguer to three times hit for the cycle.  The first came against Walter “Big Train” Johnson.  The second one was against two largely unknowns on the A’s, Jim Sullivan and Charlie Eckert, neither of them ever won a big league game.  The third was achieved by benefit of a twelve-inning game.   He also holds the all-time record by twice stealing home in the World Series.

Meusel hit .328 for the Yankees as a big league rookie in 1920.  Another newcomer to the club that year was George Herman “Babe” Ruth.  Despite their personality differences, they both enjoyed the nightlife and became friends.

Meusel was known for having an extremely quiet demeanor and nonchalant style of play.  Manager Miller Huggins described him as only appearing to be indifferent.  He showed the same emotion regardless of whether the team won or lost.  Several players and writers described him as anti-social.  Meusel’s conversations sometimes only included the words “Hello” and “Goodbye.”  Still, he wasn’t the type to be easily irritated and disrupt team chemistry.  Fans often mistook his skillful, effortless work for loafing.  His long, loping strides in fielding the ball helped to give them that impression.

He helped the Yankees win consecutive pennants from 1921 through 1923.  They faced the Giants in the post-season all three years.

Meusel, Ruth and second-string pitcher Bill Piercy were suspended for going on a barnstorming tour after the 1921 World Series.  This practice was prohibited back then for players who had just participated in a World Series.  These three teammates were warned beforehand but still went ahead with their trip.  Commissioner Kenesaw Mountain Landis had been in office for less than a year and felt that his authority was being challenged.  Therefore, Landis came down fairly hard on the defiant players by ruling them ineligible until May 20, 1922.  Executives, fan groups and others unsuccessfully attempted to have the penalties lessened.

In 1923, Meusel hit .313 with 9 home runs and 91 runs batted in as the Yankees moved into their new Yankee Stadium.  The Yankees won their first World Series in 1923 with Meusel delivering an eventual game-winning two-run single in the decisive Game Six.

Before the 1924 season started, Meusel’s close friend Tony Boeckel, shortstop for the Boston Braves, was killed when the car in which he was riding flipped over in San Diego.  Meusel was a passenger in the vehicle but escaped unhurt.

On June 13, 1924 Meusel helped ignite a riot against the Tigers at Detroit’s Navin Field.  The Yankees were leading, 10-6, when Bert Cole’s pitch nearly flattened Babe Ruth.  Cole then proceeded to nail Meusel in the ribs.  Meusel sprinted toward the suspected beanball thrower and took a swing at him (but missed).  It set off a free-for-all between the players, along with a heated confrontation between Ruth and player/manager Ty Cobb.  Umpire Billy Evans tried to restore order by tossing out Meusel and Ruth.  But then scores of unruly fans stormed the playing field, and fights started breaking out all over.  Therefore, Evans forfeited the game to New York.

One of the all-time greatest outfields was Combs, Meusel and Ruth, which reigned from 1924 through 1929.  Meusel and Ruth would alternate positions, depending upon the individual ballpark because Ruth wanted to avoid facing the glaring sun.  For instance, Ruth played right field in Yankee Stadium, since the sun shone on left field.  The situation was reversed at Fenway Park.

Meusel won the American League home run and Runs Batted In titles in 1925.  However, the Yankees plummeted from second to seventh place in 1925.  After that season, Meusel never again reached such lofty heights in home runs.

Manager Miller Huggins reshuffled the Yankees and brought them back to greatness in 1926.  A noticeable change was their middle infield combo with the addition of Mark Koenig and Tony Lazzeri.  This revamped team won the pennant, but lost the World Series to Rogers Hornsby’s Cardinals.   In a famous pitcher/batter confrontation, Alexander whiffed Lazzeri with the bases loaded in Game Seven.  Combs, Gehrig and Meusel were all straddling the base paths at the time. Meusel was at bat when the game ended two innings later on Ruth’s failed steal attempt of second base.

Meusel batted .339 and stole 24 bases with the fence-busting 1927 Yankees.  His speed was exemplified by stealing second, third, and home in the third inning of a game on May 16.  This team’s best hitters were known as Murderers’ Row.  Gehrig, Lazzeri, Meusel and Ruth each had over 100 Runs Batted In in 1927.  Ruth, Gehrig, and Lazzeri were the league’s top three home run hitters.  Combs led the league in hits and triples.  Often overlooked was the Yankees pitching staff, which led both leagues in Earned Run Average.  This well-rounded team is traditionally regarded as the finest ever.  They capped off their fantastic season by sweeping Pittsburgh in the World Series.

Meusel accumulated over 100 Runs Batted In with the Yankees for a fifth time in 1928.  They won the pennant that year, and then swept St. Louis in the World Series.

Meusel’s numbers tailed off in 1929 which led to him being waived to the Reds in October 1929.  He played in 110 games, hitting .289 with 10 home runs and 69 runs batted in.  The Reds released Meusel after the season, and he went on to spend two seasons playing in the minor leagues before retiring from baseball.

Meusel had cameo appearances in the movies Slide, Kelly, Slide, Alibi Ike, Pride of the Yankees and The Babe Ruth Story.

Meusel’s older brother was the Giants’ Emil “Irish” Meusel, who four times drove in over 100 runs.  One of their greatest thrills was opposing each other in three straight World Series from 1921-23.  The brothers had somewhat similar career statistics.  For example, they both played eleven years, with one batting .310 and the other .309.  They were the first siblings to combine for fifty home runs in the same season.  They were also the only brothers who both won Runs Batted In titles.

Bob Meusel died November 28, 1977 in Downey CA.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Ken Willey.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 23 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 2 week of June.

June 10

1966 Indian hurler Sonny Siebert throws the only no-hitter of the season defeating the Senators, 2-0.

Siebert received an athletic scholarship to the University of Missouri, where he was a three-year letter winner in basketball for the Tigers.

He joined the baseball team at Missouri his junior year.  Playing first base for the Tigers in 1958, Siebert led the team in home runs with eight, and helped lead them to the final game of the Collegiate World Series, which they lost to Southern California.

After his single season of college baseball, Siebert signed with Cleveland as an amateur free agent in 1958.  He signed as an outfielder, but found it boring because there was so little action that came his way.   He played sparingly in the lower classes of the Indians minor league chain.  In 1959 he broke his right ankle in a base-running incident, ending his season after just 61 games.

He reported to the Florida Instructional League, but was limited to pitching batting practice after the cast was removed from his ankle.  His pitching ability caught the eye of minor league pitching coach, Spud Chandler.  The former Yankee great urged Siebert to forgo his trial in the outfield, and concentrate on pitching. Sonny later recalled, “Chandler said he felt I still had a good chance to make the big leagues as a hitter, but he told me I would probably make it a lot faster as a pitcher.”

At the time Siebert was contemplating a position change, his hometown St. Louis Hawks, of the National Baseball Association, came calling, offering Sonny a tryout on their 1959-60 squad.  He attended their training camp, participating in two-a-day workouts for two to three weeks.  Even though he favored basketball, he eventually chose to follow the path to the pitching mound.  He later said, “I had lost some of my ability.  And being away from basketball for two years didn’t help.  I lost my moves.  You lose your edge, too, when you lay off competitive basketball for a long time.”

Deciding to switch to pitching in 1960, Siebert made a second climb through the Indians organization in 1960 and 1961.  In 1962, he led Charleston of the Eastern League in wins with a 15-8 record, posting an Earned Run Average of 2.91.  After enjoying a terrific spring training with the major league club the following year, the Indians still sent Siebert down to the minors.

Cleveland had a stable of qualified starters on their roster; Mudcat Grant, Dick Donovan, Barry Latman, Gary Bell, Pedro Ramos and a young Jim Perry.  Siebert felt he was being frozen in the minor leagues and reported to Jacksonville of the International League with a chip on his shoulder.  Unfortunately for Sonny, it showed in his performance, posting a 4-10 record for the Suns.

Siebert held out the following spring, but the issue was not money.  His hope was that he would strike a minor league deal with the Indians, and that he might be traded to another team.  He did not want to be tied up with the Indians in a major league contract if he was not going to get the opportunity to pitch at the major league level.

After talking it over with General Manager Gab Paul, Siebert eventually signed his contract.  And it paid off, as he made the Indians club out of spring training in 1962.  He started the season coming out of the pen, and then joined the rotation for the final two months of the season.  Indians’ broadcaster and former pitcher Herb Score liked what he saw of the youngster.  Score commented, “This fellow has a real good fast ball.  If he throws it on the inside, it goes up and in.  He can really make that ball break up when he throws it on the inside.”

The Indians were building one of the best staffs in the majors.  Along with Siebert, Luis Tiant, Sam McDowell and Steve Hargan proved to be formidable hurlers for Cleveland opponents.  Although it was McDowell who garnered much of the attention with his blazing fastball, Siebert was impressing people as well.  He had a mastery of all the pitches in his repertoire, and he was mentally tough.

Indians infielder Vern Fuller recalled, “He didn’t throw as hard as Sam, but no one did. But, Sonny was a dedicated, well-conditioned athlete.  In terms of changing speeds and throwing to spots, he was the best of the four pitchers.”  McDowell agreed with that assessment. “Sonny is the number one pitcher on the team.  He’ll give us a good year every year.  He is he hardest worker and the most conscientious guy on the ream.  I wish I were more like him.  Each of us trying to better the other helps us both to be better pitchers.”

In five years with Cleveland, Siebert’s rookie campaign was the only season that his earned run average exceeded 3.00 with a mark of 3.23.  Over five seasons with Cleveland, his earned run average was 2.75.  He posted consecutive 16-win seasons in 1965 and 1966, which were the only two years in which the Indians offense supported him with more then four runs a game.  In 1966, he made his only appearance in the All Star Game, pitching two innings of no-hit ball at Busch Stadium in St. Louis.

On June 10, 1966 Siebert and his wife, Carol, had been discussing his recent pitching performances.  Even though his record was 4-3, it had been nearly three weeks since he posted a win.  “I hadn’t been going so good and she was kidding me about being bombed so much,” said Sonny.  As he departed from their home on June 10, 1966, Cleveland’s starting pitcher proposed a deal to Carol.  He sarcastically remarked, “Promise you’ll get off my back and I’ll pitch a no-hitter.”

Cleveland jumped out to the early lead over visiting Washington that evening, courtesy of Leon Wagner’s first inning homer, a solo shot.  That was all of the offensive support Siebert would need on this evening against the Senators.  Siebert’s words to his wife were prophetic, as he hurled the eleventh no-hitter in the 66-year history of the Indians.

Only two Senators reached base; Siebert walked Dick Nen in the fifth inning and Paul Casanova reached on an error by shortstop Chico Salmon in the eighth.  Siebert struck out seven and was the beneficiary of fine plays in the field by third baseman Max Alvis and Salmon.

Washington’s Don Blasingame was impressed by Siebert’s work and said,  “I’ve seen him throw harder but he had good control and good breaking stuff.  So, overall, that’s as good as I’ve seen him.”   As the bottom of the ninth inning beckoned, catcher Joe Azcue explained his strategy.  “Sonny took only five warm-ups.  But I didn’t say anything to him.  I made up my mind to keep my glove extra low so that he would keep his pitches low.  I wanted to say something to help him, but I didn’t want to do something that might make him more nervous.  He was going through enough.”

“Tonight I had good stuff,” explained Siebert. “More important, I was lucky.  I got some breaks-those line drives right at people, and once a long foul down the line.  But, I guess you have to have luck to pitch a no-hitter.  I just went numb when I got it.  It was wonderful, certainly the biggest triumph of my life.”

The Indians provided little offense to support their tremendous staff.  As a team they hit .247 in 1964, bottoming out to .234 in 1968.  First baseman Tony Horton led the team in home runs with 14 in 1968, the only player to reach double digits that year for the Indians.

On May 14, 1968, Siebert looked poised to pitch his second no-hitter at home against Baltimore.  He sailed though the first six innings, when with one away in the seventh, Curt Blefary doubled for the only Oriole hit.  Siebert said of the game, “I tried to keep the ball away from Blefary.  I didn’t want to let him jerk one to right, but he went with the pitch.  At that point, I wasn’t thinking about a no-hitter-although I was aware I was working on one.  I just wanted to win the game and figured I’d need a shutout.”   The Indians were ahead 1-0 at the time of Blefary’s double, ultimately winning the game 2-0.

As good of a pitcher as Siebert was, it was medical problems that curtailed what may have been a great career.  He suffered through many injuries, from back spasms to a sore right shoulder to a peculiar dust allergy to an inner ear infection to constant dizzy spells.  He pitched through the ailments when he was able, but the effects were apparent.

Talk show host Pete Franklin recalled, “He would have all these strange injuries.  If there was one little hole in the outfield, Sonny would find it and trip when he was out running sprints.  He’d wake up in the morning, stretch, and pull a muscle.  But this guy was a helluva pitcher when he was healthy.”

Siebert also thought that he was never fairly compensated by the Indians, and often feuded over his contract with Gabe Paul.  The Indians were a franchise that watched every penny that was spent.  Combined with low attendance and persistent rumors that the team was relocating to Seattle or New Orleans, it was not the best of circumstances to make a living as a ballplayer.    Siebert recalled, “They were tough to deal with.  In 1965, I was 16-8 for the Indians and I got a raise from about $8,000 to $10,000.  The next year, I was 16-8 again, and they offered me the same contract.  I couldn’t believe it.  I had to hold out into March to get a raise.”

On April 19, 1969, Cleveland traded Siebert to Boston.  Despite having a sore right elbow due to a calcium deposit the size of a quarter in his right elbow, Siebert won 14 games for the Red Sox after the trade.  Boston Manager Dick Williams moved Siebert to the pen in the latter stages of the season, and he picked up five saves.  After off-season surgery to have the deposit scraped away, he was ready for 1970.

Siebert had a fine season, finishing 15-8 with a 3.44 Earned Run Average, and staying in the rotation all season.  He was even better in 1971, finishing 16-10 as the staff ace for the Red Sox.  Of those 16 victories, four came against the World Champion Orioles.  His Earned Run Average was a miniscule 0.76 against the Orioles.  He supplied is own offense to back up his fine pitching, smacking six home runs on the year.  Four of those came against Baltimore.  Orioles skipper Earl Weaver said, “He just goes out there and beats us with his arm and bat.”

Siebert had been a pitcher who relied on his power most times when he toed the rubber in Cleveland.  But with the Red Sox, he learned how to become a pitcher, and not just a thrower. Boston pitching coach Harvey Haddix said,  ”Sonny has always had the stuff to be great, only he never knew it before.  With him, it wasn’t a question of changing anything, just building up his confidence.  He’s throwing the ball all the time now whether he’s ahead or behind the hitter.  Before, he’d start to aim his pitches if he got into a hole.  Also, hitters can no longer afford to guess against him.  A lot of guys have maybe one or two pitches they can depend on in a clutch.  But Sonny has four-the fastball, slider, curve and changeup.  He’s just as effective with one as the other.”

Boston added Luis Tiant to its staff in 1972 and they looked poised to challenge Baltimore as kings of the American League East.  Siebert was enjoying another excellent season, going 9-5 with a 2.79 earned run average before the All Star break.  During the break, Siebert was vacationing with his family at the beach, when he slipped on some rocks and badly sprained his right ankle.  The injury was costly, as he could not drive off the rubber, causing the velocity in pitches to drop.  He went 3-7 the rest of the season, his earned run average rising to 3.80 for the year.

Siebert picked a poor time for his latest injury, as he was engaged in the first pennant race of his life.  On September 23, the Red Sox were deadlocked with the Tigers for first place in the division, while the Orioles trailed by 2 ½ games.  Boston was hosting Detroit that day, and Siebert took the hill.  The tendons in his ankle were so bad, he lasted only a third of an inning, giving up three runs, two of them earned.

Boston Manager Eddie Kasko, as well as the Boston front office, believed that Siebert was not putting forth an honest effort.  Siebert fell into Kasko’s doghouse, and there he remained.  He did not start another game that season, as Boston finished a half game behind the first place Tigers.  He remained mainly idle the next year, pitching only two innings during the first month of the year.  After repeated pleas to be traded, Siebert got his wish, going to Texas on May 4, 1973.

Again the injury bug plagued Siebert. After going 6-6 with a 2.35 earned run average, he suffered a shoulder separation and was sidelined for a month.  After the season he was again traded, this time to his hometown Cardinals.

Siebert both started and relieved for the Cardinals, with one of his more memorable efforts coming out of the pen.  On September 11, 1974, St. Louis was locked in a 25-inning affair with New York at Shea Stadium.  The game ended at 3:13 AM, with Siebert going the final 2 1/3 innings to pick up his eighth victory.  The game lasted seven hours and four minutes, as the Cardinals set a National League record by using 26 players in the marathon game.  Siebert recalled, “I got the ball from the longest National League night game in history.  I’ve been offered money for it, but I would never sell it.”

The 1975 season was Siebert’s last in the major leagues.  He split the year pitching for both San Diego and Oakland.  Siebert said, “When I quit playing, I was burned out on baseball.”

In retirement, Siebert eventually got back into the developmental side of baseball in 1984, working as the pitching instructor for the San Diego organization.  He tutored the young arms at every level of the Padres’ minor league chain.  In 1994 and 1995, he served as the pitching coach for the major league Padres.

In retirement Siebert says, “I love baseball.  I guess I’m like every player, who, when your career is over, looks back and realizes mistakes you made and things you would have done differently.  But I felt lucky that I got a chance to play in the big leagues and that I had a pretty long career.  I feel fortunate to be one of the few guys who got to play in the big leagues.  It really has been a blessing to have the talent to pitch in the major leagues.”

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Joseph Wancho.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 22 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 1 week of June.

June 2

1949 The Phillies hit five home runs in the eighth inning against the Reds, two by Andy Seminick and one each by Willie Jones, Schoolboy Rowe and Del Ennis.

Delmer Ennis was born on June 8, 1925 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

There was nothing unusual about his stance.  He was square to the plate, the bat was still; as the pitcher delivered the ball he would step toward the pitcher and if he liked the pitch, he swung, using shoulders, arms, and wrists which could belong to a blacksmith.

Signed by the Phillies in 1943, he was a hometown product and the original Whiz Kid.

The Whiz Kids was the name given that group of young Phillies players who in 1950 won the team’s first National League pennant in 35 years.  Twenty-five-year-old Del Ennis was the power behind the team.  The “Kids” included, along with Ennis, Robin Roberts, Curt Simmons, Willie “Puddin’ Head” Jones, Granny Hamner, Bubba Church, Richie Ashburn, Stan Lopata, Ralph “Putsy” Caballero, Bob Miller, and Stan Hollmig, all of whom were younger than 25.

Ennis was originally assigned to the Phillies Class B Trenton team in 1943 where he hit .346 with 18 home runs and 93 runs batted in.  Soon after the baseball season ended, the 18-year-old Ennis enlisted in the Navy.  He was sent to the South Pacific, stationed with the rank of warrant officer on Guam.  Ennis didn’t like Guam but he did get to meet and play some baseball with the likes of major leaguers Schoolboy Rowe, Johnny Vander Meer, and Billy Herman.  Ennis developed a reputation and rumors got back to the major leagues about a kid on Guam who was hitting vicious line drives.

Ennis was discharged in April 1946 and the Phillies planned on giving him another season of experience in the minors, but as a war veteran he was allowed to stay with the parent club, so manager Ben Chapman inserted him in left field during their first trip west.  Ennis smacked a bases-loaded double to beat Pittsburgh and hit two home runs at Wrigley Field.  He was in the lineup to stay.  Ennis was named to the 1946 All-Star team and finished the season with a .313 batting average, 17 home runs, and 73 runs batted in.  He was named The Sporting News Rookie of the Year.

Ennis suffered the “sophomore jinx” in 1947.  His batting average and home run totals were down, but after that, he became one of the top run producers in baseball, beginning with a 30-home run, 95-Run Batted In season in 1948.  From that point on his numbers were consistent with or even better than those of Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, Willie Mays, Duke Snider, Gil Hodges, and Stan Musial.  For the 10-year span from 1948 through 1957, Ennis batted in 1,075 runs – second only to Musial over that period – while maintaining a batting average above .280 and belting, on average, 25 home runs per season.

Much has been said of Ennis’s fielding and some of it was not kind.  However, he was capable of overcoming his mistakes, sometimes in spectacular fashion.  According to Robin Roberts, once in the 1950 season, Del overran a shot to right field by Jackie Robinson and though off-stride, reached out and caught the ball barehanded.  Robinson ran into right field, yelling at Ennis all the way, “How did you catch that ball?”  Richie Ashburn observed, “Ennis reached up and caught the ball barehanded on the dead run, like picking an apple off a tree.  He never cracked a smile, just like it was a routine play.”

In 1952, at the Polo Grounds, the Giants’ Willie Mays slugged a ball to deep right-center field, near the 455-foot sign; Ennis was off at the crack of the bat.  For Mays this could have been an inside-the-park home run.  As Ennis was about to reach for the ball, he tripped over the right-center bullpen mound and as he was falling, reached out and caught the ball, again barehanded.

As a member of the 1950 “Whiz Kids” team Del was the menace of the National League and helped the Phillies win their first pennant since 1915 in an exciting finish that saw Philadelphia beat out the powerful Brooklyn Dodgers on the last day of the season.  The Phillies went on to be swept in the World Series by the New York Yankees, with Ennis hitting only .143 with no Runs Batted In.

After the league leading triumph of 1950, Ennis had a down year in 1951.  The Philadelphia fans began to jeer and boo, and Ennis, the only Philadelphia native on the team, was their target.  It didn’t help that the Phillies team never matched the promise the Whiz Kids showed in 1950.  They were always finishing behind the Brooklyn Dodgers and their “Boys of Summer” or Durocher’s Giants or Musial’s Cardinals.  In the 1950s, New York baseball was in full bloom with the Yankees, Dodgers, and Giants consistently appearing in the World Series; there was no room for the aging Whiz Kids.

Ennis did suffer through a bad season in 1951.  His batting average plummeted more than 40 points to .267, home runs fell off to only 15, and his runs-batted in amounted to only 73 after a league leading 126 during the pennant-winning year.

Ennis bounced back from that 1951 slump with four straight seasons of 20-plus homers and 100-plus Runs Batted In, and his 364 Runs Batted In from 1953 through 1955 ranked second in the majors behind Snider’s 392.  But Del remained a target of the fans.

Thirty years or more later, Mike Schmidt received – and in the 2000’s Pat Burrell received – that same booing, but it never matched what Del Ennis endured from 1951 until he was traded to the Cardinals in 1956.  Robin Roberts reported in his book The Whiz Kids and the 1950 Pennant a comment by one of the Phillies’ young pitchers, Steve Ridzik: “I had come to a ballgame against the Dodgers in Shibe Park.  It was the seventh inning and we were ahead by three runs, but the bases were loaded with two outs.  A fly ball goes out to Del and, with two outs, everybody is running.  Damn if the ball doesn’t hit him on the heel of the glove and he drops it.  All three runs score and we have a tie ballgame.  We had a packed house and the fans start to boo him unmercifully.  It was terrible.

“The next inning when he went out to left field they booed and booed and booed.  They booed him when he ran off the field at the end of the inning.  Unmerciful.  I looked over at him sitting in the dugout and he’s got his hands clenched and he’s just white.  He’s just livid.  Here he is a hometown guy and everything. . . .  He came to bat in the last of the eighth inning with the score still tied and two outs.  The fans just booed and booed and all our guys on the bench are just hotter than a pistol.  We were ready to fight the thirty-some thousand.  He didn’t deserve that.  So Del hits one on top of the roof and as he’s rounding the bases the crowd goes crazy.  They cheered and cheered and cheered.  They were standing and wouldn’t sit down.  They wanted him to come out of the dugout.  But he wouldn’t move.  He just sat there as white as a ghost, mad as hell.  When he went out in the ninth inning the fans stood up and applauded again.  I had to step back off the rubber a couple of times because they wouldn’t sit down.

“That was one of the greatest thrills of my career, watching something like that happen to somebody else.  It was beautiful.”

Another time, in 1955, Ennis took his son to a game on the son’s birthday and the Phillies beat the Cardinals, 7-2.  Del hit home runs in the first, sixth, and seventh innings and drove in all seven runs.  He popped out on his other at-bat in the third inning and the fans “liked to boo me out of the park.”  Several other times Del answered the boo-birds with game-winning hits, but much of the booing over a five-year period was harsh.  Ennis rationalized that he was from North Philly, and the booing was led by fans from South Philly.  Ennis was traded to the Cardinals for Rip Repulski and Bobby Morgan after the 1956 season. When he returned to Philadelphia for the first time, he received a standing ovation that lasted long enough to indicate to Ennis that he had been appreciated.

In 1957 with the Cardinals, Ennis batted .286, with 24 home runs and 105 runs batted in while leaving a void in the middle of the Phillies lineup that was never filled until Mike Schmidt arrived in Philadelphia.  But the 1957 campaign was the last good season of Ennis’s career.  In 1958 he hit only three home runs in 329 at-bats while dealing with a family crisis; The Sporting News reported that his wife had suffered a nervous breakdown during the season.  That October Ennis was again traded, this time to the Cincinnati Reds.

Unfortunately for Del, the Reds’ new manager in 1959 was Mayo Smith, who Ennis felt had been instrumental in trading Ennis away when Smith managed the Phillies’ from 1955 through 1957.  Ennis said about the 1959 Reds in an interview in The Major Leaguer, “We had a good ballclub.  We felt we could win. But, here again Mayo Smith had come over to manage the Reds then.  I probably had my best spring ever that year too.  I hit something like 12 home runs and had about 30 runs batted in, but the manager initiated a platoon system in right field with Jerry Lynch.”  Once the season started, Ennis got only 12 at-bats before being traded to the Chicago White Sox on May 1.

At the age of 34, Ennis finished his 14-season baseball career after playing in 26 games for the White Sox during their 1959 pennant-winning year.  He batted .219, had two home runs, six doubles, and seven runs batted in.

On June 20, 1959 the White Sox released Ennis.

In 1983, during the Phillies’ 100th anniversary year, he was named to the Philadelphia Phillies Centennial Team.

Del Ennis died on February 8, 1996 in Huntingdon Valley, Pennsylvania at age 70.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Edward Veit.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 21 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 4 week of May.

May 27

1960 With Hoyt Wilhelm as his battery mate, Oriole backstop Clint Courtney becomes the first catcher to use the big knuckleball mitt.

Clinton Dawson Courtney was born on March 16, 1927, in Hall Summit, Louisiana.

As a player, Courtney wasn’t elegant, but he got the job done, especially as a field general.  At his best, he was a good line-drive hitter, though he never had a great deal of power.  His 11 years in the big leagues also featured two intriguing positional footnotes.  Courtney gets credit (with an element of doubt) as the first receiver in the majors to wear glasses behind the plate.  Nine years later, in 1960, he was the first to wear the giant mitt that Paul Richards developed to help handle knuckleball pitchers.

In 1944, Courtney was drafted into the Army. His first stations were Camp Robinson and Fort Chaffee, Arkansas. Fort Chaffee’s team played in the 1945 National Baseball Congress tournament in Wichita, Kansas. After that, he served in Korea, the Philippines, and Japan, where he was a member of the Army of Occupation. Courtney was an outfielder at first, but then went behind the plate. David Condon’s article further supported the idea that Courtney had played ball before joining the Army. It said, “Along the route, Courtney had developed into a proficient ballplayer.”

Accounts also vary widely as to when Courtney began wearing glasses. The McMaster story said it was while he was in Korea, but Bob Broeg said it was later, in the minors. Jo Lawson’s family knowledge makes intuitive sense: the need arose from his welding job. At any rate, Courtney found he had trouble with high twisting foul pop-ups. A vision check revealed that he had astigmatism, and so he also needed specs to play. There was precedent among catchers in college ball and the minor leagues, and (contrary to the accepted wisdom) a big-league catcher — possibly Mike González — may have worn glasses before Courtney. Courtney’s lenses were shatter-proof and he taped the frame to the sides of his head. Even so, his collision-prone style led him to run through a dozen pairs by 1958.

Shortly after Courtney was discharged in 1947, the New York Yankees signed the lefty-swinging catcher.

He made his big-league debut on September 29, 1951 at Yankee Stadium in the second game of a doubleheader against the Red Sox. He went 0 for 2 and was hit by a Mickey McDermott pitch.

Courtney did not lack confidence; he viewed himself as a legitimate contender for Yogi Berra’s job.  Realistically, there was no opportunity for him in the Bronx.  Berra was the 1951 American League Most Valuable Player; backup catchers Ralph Houk and Charlie Silvera saw little action while Yogi was in his prime.

Therefore, the Yankees traded Courtney to the St. Louis Browns on November 23, 1951.  Rogers Hornsby, who had become the Browns’ manager, recommended that the club obtain Courtney.  The Browns felt so confident in Courtney that four days later they traded away another fine catcher, Sherm Lollar.  Although the door had opened in the majors, Courtney still resented his lack of opportunity with the Yanks.

Near the end of spring training in 1952, the Browns’ new starting catcher got his “Scrap Iron” nickname.  Teammate Duane Pillette and announcer Buddy Blattner have received credit for this label, which came about after a footrace against sportswriter Milton Richman in a railway yard near the end of spring training.  Courtney tumbled, sliced himself up all over on glass and rocks, but stayed in for the next day’s exhibition game when Hornsby threatened him with a fine.

Courtney missed a couple of weeks in June after a foul tip split a finger but played in 119 games and batted .286 with 5 homers and 50 Runs Batted In.  The Sporting News named him its American League Rookie of the Year.

When the Browns fired Hornsby in June 1952, outfielder Jim Rivera and Courtney were the only men who were sorry to see him go.  Courtney said, “He never spoke to me either but I understood him.  Most of these fellows couldn’t play for him but I could.  He was tough but he was okay with me.”  It was reported that the other Browns expressed their gratitude by giving owner Veeck a trophy, but there is lingering suspicion that Veeck bought the trophy himself as another of his publicity stunts.

About a month later, on July 12, Courtney got into the first of his on-field fights with the Yankees and the noted sucker-punch specialist Billy Martin.  Courtney apparently spiked Billy in the second inning at Sportsman’s Park.  Then, “with two out in the eighth, Courtney tried to steal second and was out by a wide margin as Martin applied a hard tag to Courtney’s face.”  Courtney followed Billy, who pivoted and slugged the catcher.  A brawl ensued and umpire Bill Summers was knocked flat.

Courtney drew a five-game suspension and a $100 fine.  As Milton Richman noted, “Courtney already had a reputation for belligerence when he first came up.”  He described how the catcher “kayoed” and “flattened” two different teammates who were either not playing team ball or kibitzing card games in which Courtney was losing.

During that season Courtney developed a rapport with Satchel Paige.  Bill Veeck told the story in his autobiography, Veeck as in Wreck.  Courtney “had served notice that he wouldn’t catch Satch.  I liked Courtney because he was a rough, tough little man who played the game for all it was worth.  I felt very strongly that this was a matter entirely of environment and upbringing.  Once Clint got to know Satch, I was sure, he’d come around — even though I was perfectly aware that Satch would do nothing to appease him.” ‘

That was how it worked out.  Veeck later said, “One day I noticed Clint was warming him up.  I walked into a bar in Detroit called The Flame.  There were Leroy and Clint having dinner together.  Courtney told me, ‘My pap’s comin’ up tomorrow from Lou’siana and he’s gonna be mighty mad when he hears about us being friends.  But Satch and me figure we can whup him together.’”  Eventually Paige said, “There’s the meanest man I ever met, but I’m glad he’s on my side.”

In 1953 Courtney sought a 60 percent raise from $7,500 to $12,000 after his fine rookie year. Bill Veeck responded with an $11,000 contract. Courtney wrote back, “Dear Veeck: I changed my mind. I want $14,000, not $12,000. Clint.”

On April 28 Courtney mixed it up with the Yankees again.  In the 10th inning at Sportsman’s Park, he got riled.  His old minor-league teammate Gil McDougald had jarred the ball loose on a play at the plate, which he always protected zealously.  In response, he rammed into Phil Rizzuto at second base with spikes high in the bottom of the inning.  The Yankees came to the defense of their little shortstop, and it turned into another free-for-all.  Umpire John Stevens suffered a dislocated shoulder; fans heaved soda bottles on the field; action was halted for 17 minutes.  American League President Will Harridge meted out a total of $850 in fines — including $250 on “instigator” Courtney for “violating all rules of sportsmanship.”

The ’53 season also featured another dustup in July.  This time Courtney squared off with Johnny Bucha of Detroit when the opposing catcher came in hard at the plate. Over the course of the year he produced much less with the bat, driving in just 19 men on four homers while hitting .251 in 106 games.  Broken fingers early in the season hampered him.

Courtney was still first-string after the Browns franchise shifted to Baltimore for the 1954 season.  His home run off Chicago’s Virgil Trucks on April 15 was the first in the big leagues at Baltimore’s Memorial Stadium.  Courtney hit a respectable .270 with 4 homers and 37 Runs Batted In.  Perhaps his most distinctive number at the plate, though, was his strikeout total: just seven in 437 plate appearances, which remains a club record.

On November 17 of that year, the Orioles obtained catcher Gus Triandos in a 17-player deal with New York.  A few weeks later, Courtney became part of a seven-man swap with the White Sox.  Marty Marion Chicago’s manager said, “We wanted catching strength and I think we got it.

At the end of March 1955 Courtney told United Press, “Gone soft, hell! I’m just as wild as I ever was.  I still don’t take nuthin’ from nobody.  They say I turned into a lamb just because I got fined for one of those fights, huh?  Well, whoever says it is crazy.”  He added, “This is a good club to be with — providin’ they gimme some work to do.”

Courtney spent less than half a season in Chicago.  He didn’t get off on the right foot there, holding out for a better contract from Frank Lane.  On June 7, 1955, the White Sox sent him in a 3-for-1 deal to the Washington Senators.  Courtney finished the year hitting .309 and was at .300 in 1956.  He was a semi-regular, getting roughly 300 plate appearances a year from 1955 through 1957.

In 1958 Courtney was the subject of trade talks in the early part of the season.  However, Washington didn’t trade him and he went on to set a number of career highs: games played, plate appearances, home runs, and Runs Batted In.

Courtney split the Senators’ catching duties almost evenly with Hal Naragon in 1959.  He had a heart-attack scare in February, but the ailment was later diagnosed as pleurisy.  Then in the exhibition season, he suffered a hairline fracture of the leg in a collision at the plate.  Expected to be out for a month to six weeks, he was back in action mere days later.  However, mumps kept him out of the lineup from late April through early June.  His batting fell off to a .233 average.

On April 3, 1960, Washington traded Courtney back to Baltimore.

Orioles manager Paul Richards said of the trade, “You know, Courtney is about three times better a catcher than anyone has ever given him for being.  He hops around out there, but he gets the job done.  He’s one of the fellows who doesn’t mind winning.”  A word about Courtney’s arm is in order, too.  He played in a time when the stolen base was largely out of vogue, but throughout his career, he nailed 41percent of opposing runners.  In addition, he possessed another valuable skill as a receiver, being an expert “framer” of pitches.

Hoyt Wilhelm’s knuckleball had bedeviled Gus Triandos, who surrendered 28 passed balls and 29 wild pitches in 1959.  Triandos later said, “The more I caught him, the worse I got.”  During the early going in 1960, Gus and Baltimore’s other catcher, Joe Ginsberg, gave up 11 more passed balls and four wild pitches while Wilhelm was working.  The Orioles’ staff had another knuckleballer too, Hal “Skinny” Brown.

The innovative Richards, noting that there was no regulation governing the size of catcher’s mitts, came up with the model called “Big Bertha” or “the elephant ear.”  He had first hatched the idea in the fall of 1959; in May 1960 he said, “with the situation no better, I sent [Orioles pitching coach] Harry Brecheen to Chicago to a factory.”  The mitt was 42 inches in circumference and weighed 30 ounces, vs. the standard 33-34 inches and 27 ounces.

Courtney got to break in the mitt on May 27 when Wilhelm pitched against the Yankees.  The Orioles won 3-2, and the game was free of passed balls.  After the game, Courtney said the glove was easy to handle.  “I don’t know how many pitches would have jumped past me with a regular glove.  This was the first time I ever caught [Wilhelm].  Boy is he rough to catch.  I don’t see how anybody ever hits him.”

Major League Baseball’s rules committee enacted a rule against the Big Berthas in December 1964, establishing a maximum circumference of 38 inches for catcher’s mitts.

The oddity of Courtney’s 1960 season was a bout with the yips.  Various catchers have found themselves unable to throw the ball back to the pitcher normally.  Courtney got around the mental block either by throwing the ball to third base or by walking partway to the mound.  Fortunately, the malady did not last long, but it was ironic because Courtney had been known in the past for “burning” the ball back to his pitchers.

On January 24, 1961, Courtney was packed off again, going to Kansas City. Courtney appeared in just one game for the A’s, however, before they returned him to Baltimore on April 14.  Courtney’s last major-league appearance came on June 24, 1961.

In February 1962 the expansion Houston Colt .45s signed Courtney as a free agent.  However, the big club cut the 35-year-old veteran in April 1962.

Courtney hung on in the minors for two more years as a player-coach.

Courtney finished up behind the plate with 37 games for San Antonio in 1964.  In November he rejoined Houston as a combination bullpen coach and catcher.  His feisty side was still on display in the 1965 season, as he got into a brief fistfight with teammate Lee Maye.  As Courtney was hitting fungoes, a little kidding got out of hand.  Courtney got a bruise on his head and a minor finger injury.

Courtney went on to coach and manage in the minor leagues for the rest of his life.

Clint Courtney died on June 16, 1975, in Rochester NY at the age of 48.

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Rory Costello.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

Leave a comment at the BHP web site at baseballhistorypodcast.com or write a review on iTunes, search for Baseball History Podcast.

You can email me at baseballhistory@gmail.com.

Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.

This is game 20 of the 2012 baseball season.

In the first inning let’s take a look at This Week in Baseball History for the 3 week of May.

May 17

1970 Hank Aaron becomes the ninth major leaguer to have 3000 hits when he scratches an infield single off of Reds’ pitcher Wayne Simpson.

Wayne Kirby Simpson was born on December 2, 1948 in Los Angeles, California.

In his first season, Simpson started the year by winning 13 of his first 14 decisions, including a one-hitter, a two-hitter, and a three-hitter.  But shoulder problems limited him to just two appearances after July; he finished 14-3 with a 3.08 earned run average. The injury hampered Simposn for the rest of his career.

Al Oliver, then an opponent with the Pittsburgh Pirates remembered, “He was tough. Outstanding. I’d have to rate him right up there with Seaver and Carlton.”  Since Simpson was tall, black, and powerful, the most frequent comparison was Bob Gibson.

Wayne made a lasting impression not only on batters but also on his catcher with the Cincinnati Reds, the great Johnny Bench.  In 2002, when asked who threw the very hardest during his years behind the plate, Bench did not hesitate in his answer: “Wayne Simpson wore me out; no one threw harder than he did in 1970.”  Six years later, in his book Catch Every Ball, Bench reiterated, “I’ve never seen more explosive stuff.”

Then, on July 31, 1970, the right-hander’s dominance was gone with “a sudden pop.”  He had torn his rotator cuff.  Simpson joined a long list of pitching casualties; even today with the benefit of surgical advances, making it back from such an injury is no sure thing.  Yet Simpson hung on in the pros through early 1979, braving the shameful skepticism of those (including manager Sparky Anderson) who thought it was all in his head.  He literally almost pitched his arm off.  He quit only when the damage to blood vessels in his shoulder threatened him with loss of limb — or his very life.

Simpson began to attract the attention of big-league scouts in Legion ball.  Some of his standout performances included a no-hitter and a seven-inning one-hitter in which he struck out 20.  The Cincinnati Reds made him their first-round choice in the June 1967 amateur draft.

Control was Simpson’s nemesis, as he averaged six walks per nine innings in his first three pro seasons.  Sparky Anderson, who managed Simpson at Asheville in 1968 two years before taking over at Cincinnati, said, “I can remember many times when he walked the first three batters he faced.”   Simpson added, “I can remember walking as many as 12 batters that first summer I pitched at Sioux Falls.”

Simpson also threw 24 wild pitches in 1968, which led the Double-A Southern League.  Yet he showed clear promise, throwing another no-hitter in the Florida Instructional League that fall and advancing to Triple-A in 1969.

In October 1970, Simpson said, “Pitchers are capable of changing overnight, and that’s what happened to me.”  He gave credit to catcher Pat Corrales while they were both in the Minor Leagues.  “He worked with me on my control.  He got me to pitch in a more relaxed state of mind.”

Simpson had not expected to be with the big club at the start of the 1970 season.  But when he made his major-league debut at Dodger Stadium on April 9, it was spectacular.  He faced just 29 men, allowing two hits and walking none, in a 3-0 shutout.

The rookie’s third start was a one-hitter versus the San Francisco Giants at home.  His only loss in the season’s first half came in the following game because of unearned runs.  He modestly gave credit to the Big Red Machine offense for his winning percentage, but batting support was not camouflage.  Wildness was still an issue at times and he wasn’t striking out batters but his Earned Run Average was well below 3.00.

When Simpson beat the Astros 3-1 on July 5, allowing just four hits, Johnny Bench had glowing words.  “After one pitch Simpson made to Denis Menke, I turned to plate umpire Ken Burkhardt and said ‘I’m glad I’m catching and not hitting.’  A couple of times Simpson buried my hand in the glove with his fastball.  You never know which way his fastball is going to go.  It tails, it sinks, it sails.  You name it, his fastball does it.”  Bench went on to say about Simpson’s change-up, “I don’t know where he came up with the change but I sure hope he doesn’t lose it.  He throws it up to the plate and the bottom drops out.”

Simpson was off to one of the best starts ever by a rookie pitcher.  Sparky Anderson raved about not only his stuff but also his hard work and competitive spirit.  Opposing managers joined in the praise too.  Lum Harris of the Braves said, “If Simpson ever starts getting that fast ball of his over consistently, they can throw water on the fire and call the dogs because it’ll be all over.”  Gil Hodges of the Mets selected the rookie to the National League roster for the All-Star Game, which was held in Cincinnati’s Riverfront Stadium.  However, Simpson did not appear, even though the game went 12 innings.

After that, Simpson was 1-1 in three starts before blowing out his rotator cuff.  Billy Williams of the Cubs was at the plate.  Simpson later recalled the incident, “I threw a fastball and the whole shoulder seemed to give way.”  Somehow he got through that third inning, even recording another strike out to end it.  He retired to the dugout hoping his shoulder was just overworked, but it turned out to be a muscle tear with internal bleeding.

Simpson tried to get back in action twice, on August 14 and September 13.  He admitted in 1981 that rushing back was not the right thing to do.  “I didn’t know any better.  I just wanted to pitch.” He took Novocain to deaden the pain, and pitched anyway.  He couldn’t get past the third inning either time.  “I had no strength.  I couldn’t pick up the rosin bag.  The second time, in San Diego, the arm hemorrhaged.  Then they believed it was serious.”

The Reds sent Simpson to Dr. Robert Kerlan, the prominent orthopedic surgeon.  “I wasn’t worried,” the pitcher recalled in 1977. “ I expected him to tell me to rest my arm.  I thought I would rest it for the playoffs and the World Series.”  However, he was definitely not going to be ready for the postseason.  Dr. Kerlan warned, “Your arm is very muscular. It’s going to take three or four years to come back.”

Looking back in 2011, Simpson commented, “It was definitely too many innings in Puerto Rico, and then straight to spring training, where more innings were accumulated but not counted in the record.  I wish there had been more of a pitch count, though.  Some games, such as my first game against the Dodgers, were 85 pitches for nine innings, no strain; other games, 150-160 in seven or eight innings.  In my opinion, pitch count is more important than innings limit.”

To Simpson’s displeasure, Sparky Anderson sent him down to start the 1972 season in Indianapolis.  After returning to the Reds in May, he was 8-5, 4.14, starting 22 times in 24 appearances.

In late September, tension resurfaced.  As Sports Illustrated wrote, “Both Gary Nolan and Wayne Simpson were accused of having arm problems more mental than physical.”  Both men endured unbelievable pain from serious physical causes and did anything they could to get out on the mound.

Though available, Simpson did not appear in the 1972 postseason.  On November 30, the Reds traded him along to the Kansas City Royals.  Toward the end of the year, Simpson made his feelings about the Reds organization plain.

“They were unfair to me and never were truthful.  They’d tell me that I’d pitch on certain days, then those days would come around and I wouldn’t be pitching.  That has to upset a person.  After the World Series, I was steaming.  It was building up for some time.  I mean they promised me that I’d pitch in the Series and I didn’t.  It was evident that I didn’t fit into their plans and I asked them to trade me.”  He added that if he pitched a bad game, he would have to “sit around for two weeks without pitching.

He called the departure from Cincinnati “the first good news I’ve gotten in 2 1/2 years.  This trade should give me a fresh start.” Simpson went 5-2 in the Minors, and impressed Royals manager Jack McKeon.  Said McKeon, “He showed the real good fast ball several times but impressed me even more with his maturity.  Simpson’s not merely a thrower.  He’s a pitcher.”

Things didn’t work out in Kansas City, though.  The Royals sent Simpson down to Triple-A Omaha in late June with a record of 3-4 and a 5.65 Earned Run Average in 14 games.  He got into two more big-league games after the rosters expanded in September, getting knocked out of the box in the first inning in his last appearance on September 21.

Simpson had a very strong spring training in 1974 and thought he had made the Kansas City roster.  Yet at the end of camp, the Royals traded him to the Pittsburgh Pirates.  He spent the entire season at Triple-A Charleston.  Though his record was an undistinguished 9-10, his Earned Run Average wound up at a respectable 3.32.

The following spring, he said, “Being back in the minors just didn’t sit right.  I wasn’t mentally sharp.  I was disappointed at being there and it affected my pitching. [In July] I said to myself, ‘The heck with it.  Go out there and prove you don’t belong here.”  He went on to register a 1.70 Earned Run Average during the rest of the season.

Simpson did not make the Pirates roster in spring training 1975.  On April 5, Pittsburgh traded him to the Philadelphia Phillies.  Simpson remained in Triple-A with the Toledo Mud Hens, then Philadelphia’s top affiliate.  Under manager Jim Bunning, he enjoyed something of a revival himself, going 12-7 with a 2.17 Earned Run Average — including a seven-inning no-hitter on June 20.

He also instilled a fighting spirit in teammate Dick Ruthven, who told author William Kashatus about it.  After the Richmond Braves shelled Ruthven one day, “Wayne came up to me in the clubhouse and told me, ‘Don’t you ever quit.  I went through the same thing you’re going through.  Don’t give up.  If you do, it’s going to be you and me, one on one.’”  After the no-hitter, Ruthven told Simpson, “As badly as I want to go back up, they should take you.”  Simpson shot back, “Don’t ever say you’d rather have someone else go up.  You can get buried down here.”

The Phillies did give Simpson a chance to get back to the majors, almost two years after he had last been there.  He performed well posting a 1-0 record with a 3.23 earned run average over five starts in seven games.

In April 1976, the California Angels purchased Simpson’s contract from the Phillies organization.  Once again at Triple-A he posted another winning record of 13-8 in 28 starts.  His Earned Run Average rose to 4.24, though, and he saw no big-league action.

In spring training 1977, Simpson described how he had changed since his injury, “I’m not sure I’d like to pitch the way I used to.  I used to throw entirely with my arm.  Now I throw with my body and with technique.  It’s a lot easier to throw 80 pitches a game than 135.  I still throw the fastball.  I can’t judge how fast it is any more.”

Simpson spent the entire 1977 season with the Angels, but the results were not good posting a 6-12 record with a 5.83 earned run average.

California released Wayne after the season, but in March 1978, he signed as a free agent with the Los Angeles Dodgers.  In the past he had been reluctant to go to Triple-A, but again he accepted the assignment.  He labored through 22 starts with L.A.’s top farm club, the Albuquerque Dukes, going 8-10 with an inflated 6.18 Earned Run Average.

As so many other players have done over the years, Simpson gave it a last shot in Mexico.  He joined the Mexico City Tigres.  When he reached the end of the line, though, it was a truly scary experience.  Following the most severe bout of the arm and shoulder cramps he had been battling for years, the pitcher spent two weeks of rest on doctor’s orders.  Then he tried to warm up in the bullpen.   He said, “My arm just knotted up, and my hand got cold and white — no feeling in it whatsoever.  The doctor realized there was no blood circulating in my hand.  He rubbed it and told me that I had to have an operation right away, or I could lose the hand.”

Simpson had a blood clot in his arm and was fortunate not to wind up suffering a stroke.  That fate befell J.R. Richard of the Houston Astros the next year, 1980.  Richard too had been told that his ailment was all in his head.  Richard and Simpson were two extreme examples of thoracic outlet syndrome, a repetitive stress disorder to which pitchers are prone.

In 2011, Simpson said, “The doctors later told me that the force of pitching kept my blood clots down.  Otherwise they could have traveled from my subclavian artery to my head.  They wanted to operate in Mexico City, but I said I didn’t want to do it there.”  He was rushed home and endured four bypass operations in an effort to restore normal circulation.  He later said, “When a dye was finally put in.  It illuminated the inside of my arm and pictures were revealing.  The doctors were amazed at what they saw.  Over the course of my pitching career, I had rubbed out an entire artery.”

Amazingly, Simpson still wanted to come back and pitch after the second procedure.  Yet at age 32 in 1981, he could barely lift a cup of coffee with his right hand.  He could not write more than half a page with a pen before his hand would start to grow numb.  That curtailed his studies toward a real-estate broker’s license, which he had started before going to Mexico.  He and his family got by, however, thanks to a small big-league pension.  He said, “This is no sad story.  I’m doing fine now.  I really am.  For the first time, I’m really able to enjoy my family.  I gave baseball my best shot.  And bitter?  I don’t think so.  But I am realistic.

When asked how his arm and hand felt, Simpson responded frankly, “It hurts!  I still have pain in the hand and under the arm.  It’s a permanent disability.  I’m just used to it now.”  He added more insight about the medical road he traveled.  “The first four bypasses would not take.  The clots came back.   went to the clinic of Dr. Denton Cooley in Texas, and they did a sympathectomy.”  This more radical procedure involves cutting nerves in the chest to help restore the flow of blood to the arm and hand.

“But the sympathectomy just released blood to the veins,” Simpson continued. “The artery is gone.  I have had one health problem after another, and it all goes back to pitching with that torn rotator cuff, taking cortisone shot after cortisone shot.  But mentally, I’m fine.”

Once Simpson got back from Mexico, his involvement with baseball had ended.  He has not done any coaching, although when asked, he offered an intriguing view of what happened to the once-thriving African-American baseball scene in Los Angeles.  “I’m not really in touch today but I don’t see the opportunities.  Most of the players coming out of high school today, it’s basketball or football.  We had a network — now there aren’t the leagues.  You need at least 18 players and more, plus sponsors.  A lot of the gang activity took over the parks.  Now there’s not as much gang activity, but the leagues didn’t come back.”

Despite all he has endured, Wayne Simpson is a cheerful man who laughs easily.  He reaffirmed in 2011 what he had said 30 years before about how things turned out. “I’m happy with it.  At first, I was bitter.  Athletes today know — and I know now — it’s not just a game, it’s a business too.  But I enjoyed baseball.  I enjoyed the guys I played with.  I enjoyed the teams.”

A large part of this biography comes from the SABR Baseball Biography Project written by Rory Costello.  It can be found online at http://bioproj.sabr.org

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Well, that’s it for today’s Baseball History Podcast.  I’ll see you later at the ballpark.